


Behavioral Evidence

by jillyfae



Series: SH BAU [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminal Minds Setting, Background Luke Garroway/Maryse Lightwood, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Families of Choice, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Institutional Racism, Lydia Branwell/John Monteverde referenced, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24413011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: Side stories about the members of the BAU, from before Alec was Unit Chief to Jace's retirement, from Magnus and Alec's courtship to the extended found family they all make for themselves.*Marked as complete, as each chapter is a stand-alone ficlet, but there will be more. :)
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Jace Wayland, Lydia Branwell & Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: SH BAU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761547
Comments: 57
Kudos: 118
Collections: SHBingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All you really need to know, for context for any of these, is that Jace and Alec were partners in the FBI, and Magnus is a tech analyst, aka computer nerd who does all their research. (And then head of *all* the tech analysts! Because he's brilliant.) 
> 
> Jace stays on as a member of the BAU while Alec becomes the Unit Chief, and everything else should be pretty self-explanatory.
> 
> (Unless you've never seen Criminal Minds, in which case thanks for clicking on this anyways! Basically they're profilers who track serial killers and kidnappers and etc. It's a good show, not usually *too* gruesome, though obviously different people put that line in different places, and Very Explicit about it's Found Family Vibe, which is, you may have noticed, my very favorite thing in the whole wide world. These short stories mostly won't be about actual cases; if one of them ends up more serious than usual, I'll be sure to put a note in the chapter summary.)
> 
> Questions? Comments? Flailing? [tumblr](https://faejilly.tumblr.com/) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/faejilly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bingo Square: school teachers
> 
> A story about Jace when he and Alec are FBI field agents, partners and friends, and then what he decides to be later. Also how he'd be really good with angry teenagers, wouldn't he?
> 
> (This is all Max's fault. Good job, Max.)

"You do not want me talking to high school students." 

Jace leaned down to look through the car window, trying to figure out what the fuck his partner was talking about. Alec had said he'd had to call his brother back, hadn't he?

"No y—" Alec stopped, and sighed so hard Jace could hear it. He could almost hear the accompanying eye-roll too.

Definitely talking to his brother. 

"It is not my fault you procrastinated on your homework, you try and guilt trip me about that again and I will show up to tell your teacher to fail you for being an irresponsible asshole."

Jace snorted. 

Alec shot him a side-ways glare, and then he _smiled._

Shit.

Had Jace gotten Alec mad at him lately? He hadn't...

Oh shit, he had, Jace had been running late and Alec had had to do the last two press conferences instead of trading off like they normally did. 

"I have a better idea. Wouldn't it be more impressive if you got an FBI agent you _weren't_ related to to talk to your class?"

Fuck.

"Oh yeah, Jace would _love_ to."

Jace could hear Max's happy shouting at that, and damnitalltohell, he was not such an asshole he'd let down a seventeen year old. 

Jace groaned and opened the door, sitting in the passenger's seat with a sigh. He reached a hand out, and Alec handed over the phone. 

"So tell me about this thing you're doing."

This thing he was doing was apparently a report on the different branches of law enforcement, and from the way he babbled it was clear he knew more about the differences between the FBI and the US Marshals, or a Sheriff's department vs the State cops vs a municipal police department than Jace did, so he wasn't entirely sure where he fit into things. It took over half an hour of "uh-huhs" and "okays" and "yeahs" while Alec drove them back to the police station they were working out of for their current case before Jace managed to get a word in edgewise to ask.

"It's the _presentation,_ " Max groaned like that was obvious. "I don't want to show a bunch of powerpoint slides, do I?"

No one ever wanted to sit through a bunch of powerpoint slides, Jace could agree with that easily enough. 

"So, what, you want to interview me in front of your class or something?"

"You're definitely more fun than powerpoint."

"Alec would be more fun than powerpoint, even if all he did was glare at your entire class, that's not much of a compliment."

"Yeah, but when Alec comes to my conferences, the teachers are all either scared of him or try to flirt with him." There was a hell of a lot to ignore in that sentence, not the least of it being that an _active field agent_ was better at going to school events than their parents, but Jace decided that was too heavy to deal with right now. The important part was imagining some brand-new shiny teacher trying to make fluttery-eyes at _Alec_.

Jace snorted out a laugh, and pretended to ignore the side-eye Alec was giving him. "Really? Oh god, I have to tell Magnus that, it's gonna be great."

"Not the first part, though. He hates it when people he's _not_ trying to intimidate are scared of him."

"I know." Jace answered softly, and wondered if that was the real reason Alec didn't want to do this, remembered the edge in his voice at _high school students._ He'd never forgive himself if he scared off any of Max's friends. Jace felt the car stop moving, and looked up to see that they'd parked back at the station. "Listen, I gotta get back to work, but text me your schedule for this thing, and we'll figure something out."

"Thank you."

"Any time kid, you know that."

"Thanks," Max's voice sounded soft for half a second, but he rallied pretty quickly. "But not a kid!"

"Well, _technically..._ "

Max made a rude _thbbbbt_ noise into the phone and hung up. Jace grinned, and passed Alec's phone back to him. 

"Thank you," Alec said, and Jace shrugged. They both knew he didn't mean the phone, and he didn't even _just_ mean helping Max out either.

"Any time," Jace repeated, and opened his door to go back to work. 

* * *

It went better than Jace had expected.

More than that, for all he'd been so nervous he hadn't been able to eat breakfast and he'd had to wear two undershirts so he wouldn't sweat into his button-up (white was a stupid color for a dress shirt, you would never convince him otherwise), he'd _liked_ it. He'd liked helping Max, of course, but he'd liked getting to talk to the other kids too, liked the way he could tell he'd given a few of them something to think about, liked the way he felt like he'd maybe helped someone with a new way of looking at things _before_ something terrible happened. He liked his regular job, but that was always... after the fact, wasn't it? 

He looked up the FBI's school outreach programs the next day. They always needed volunteers. 

* * *

All BAU agents will hit a point when they've had enough. When they've seen too much blood, or too many tears, when they can't take the _smell,_ or when, even worse, they no longer care about the blood or the tears or the smell, when it's all just become puzzle pieces to put together or take apart.

All field agents have to decide when they've had too much, when they can't run down yet another dark alley or across another field, when their eyes or knees or back just can't quite keep up. When they don't want to reach for the gun again, or maybe when they realize they've reached for it too many times, too easily, a hand on their hip even when they're off duty, reaching for that weight, that shape between the fingers, that moment when it's the first response to any question. 

Jace realized he'd hit the both of them at the same time when one of the other teams got called on a case, and he watched them gathering their go-bags on the way out the door, and he was so relieved it wasn't him heading out that he could barely breathe. 

He looked across the desks at Fuller, who he was startled to realize had the first faint hints of grey at his temples, whose crow's feet were visible around his eyes, whose forehead wrinkled when he raised his eyebrows to return Jace's gaze.

"When did we get so old?" Jace asked.

Fuller blinked, a hint of a frown between his brows, but then Jace watched the realization cross his face. 

Always was a smart one, Fuller. 

"Where are you going to go?"

Jace realized he knew exactly where he was going to go, knew exactly what he'd been wanting to do for a while now, knew exactly why he'd gotten a second bachelor's degree in his so-called spare time over the years. It wouldn't take long to get the rest of it back up to speed. 

"High school."

Fuller laughed, but he wasn't laughing _at_ Jace's answer, no, he knew exactly what Jace meant, and he was clearly glad to hear it. "Call me if you need me for career day, will you?"

Jace nodded. "You know it."

* * *

It took a little longer than he'd hoped, but not by much. He was writing his name on the board in _his_ classroom, the night before orientation, when it finally hit him. He stopped, looked at the clear shape of the "H - e - r - o - n - d - a - l - e" in front of him, in front of the whole _room,_ front and center and _his,_ and pulled out his phone to take a picture. 

He sent it to Alec, of course, without any caption or explanation. 

Alec sent back a heart-eyes, and that damn confetti cone thing, and Jace grinned. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bingo Square: star-gazing
> 
> Malec, just beginning.

It wasn't often he had a case so far out in the middle of nowhere. Apparently whatever checklist or SOP organized the assignments included the data that he and Jace were both city boys. (Or else their Chief was even more anal than he'd thought at first, and micromanaged all the way through.) It required a different sort of detective work out here. Fewer witnesses, more connections between the people of interest, everyone knew _of_ everyone else, everyone had an opinion on everything and everyone else, even if they weren't friends or family or rivals. 

He'd never had so many people glare at him like he was a particularly rude idiot in his _life,_ but he'd figured out pretty quickly that the only way to ask the questions he needed without someone clamming up in clear offense was to ask every single person the exact same list of inquiries, even if ten of them _clearly_ didn't apply. He'd repeated, _it's just procedure, ma'am, sir,_ more times in the past 48 hours than the previous year of his career. 

Not that it had helped much. Yet. And there was nothing he could do to hurry it along, nothing else he could research, no other people to ask, to follow, to watch. There was literally _nothing_ he could do right now, nothing before he heard back from the crime lab, from their background checks, nothing he could do here before the actual general store downtown opened up in the morning and he could park himself there to observe and carefully provoke a few of his more... questionable witnesses. 

He hated waiting.

He was usually good at it, nonetheless, but tonight...

He sighed, and leaned back far enough he hit his head on the windshield of their rented sedan. He grunted, and let his elbows give out until he was sprawled across the metal and glass, finally cool now, so many hours after the bright sun that had baked the car all day. 

The stars were amazing, brighter and deeper and spangled across the sky in a way he'd quite possibly never seen in person before. He could lose himself in them, in this lovely night, the air just cool enough to feel sweet against his skin. 

He sighed again, lower and slower this time, and felt some of the tension unknot from between his shoulder-blades. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, dialed a number he knew from heart.

He'd put it in his quick-dial, but he never used it. He liked the press of the buttons, liked knowing that he _knew_ this one, would always know it. He recognized the pitches and tones of it, the rhythm of his fingers, the slight click before it rang as it shifted through the FBI's system. 

"Lightwood?" Bane's voice sounded rougher than usual, and Alec winced, suddenly realizing what time it probably was. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, it's—" Alec stuttered, took a breath. "I shouldn't have called, it's nothing."

Bane hummed. "Well, we're both here now, might as well tell me anyway."

Alec huffed out a breath, and had to close his eyes for a moment to push away the sudden heat. "The stars are just so beautiful, they made me think of you."

He heard a soft noise, like a click or a choke in Bane's throat, and wondered about how stupid he was. "Oh, Alexander." 

Alec swallowed. Bane—no, Magnus, he'd just called the man beautiful, he should probably admit to knowing his first name, had never said Alec's name before; Alec wasn't sure anyone had ever said it like that. 

"You've never even seen me in person." Magnus' voice was soft, and warm, and Alec felt himself smiling for the first time all day. 

"Some things you can just tell." 

Magnus laughed softly, clearly pleased. "Same back at you, darling."

Alec almost choked that time, felt himself blush, and was glad their conversations were over the phone, so Magnus wouldn't be able to see how ridiculous he looked. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome." 

They were silent for a while, and it was nice, the faint hint of Magnus breathing in his ear, the air still cool, the stars so bright above him. 

"What's wrong?" Magnus asked eventually, his voice barely loud enough to carry. 

Alec swallowed. "How do you know something's wrong?"

Magnus clicked his tongue, though he didn't sound annoyed or disappointed by Alec's awkward attempt at deflection. "You're clearly not working, because then you'd be too busy to stare at the sky, and you're not trying to sleep either, like any sane person at this time of night when you're in the field, or there'd be a ceiling in the way."

"Beautiful and clever."

Magnus snorted. "Thank you. You didn't answer the question."

"I don't—" Alec stopped. Tried again. "I'm not good enough. I can't find a thread to follow, a string to pull, there's nothing... there's going to be more dead before I can find this one, before we can stop them."

"That's not your fault. Anything this unsub does is on _them,_ not you."

Alec grunted. 

"I know it never feels that way, but..." Magnus trailed off.

Alec hummed, the lift of a wordless question, hoping Magnus would finish his thought. He never wanted Magnus to think he couldn't say something, not to him, not when it was just them. 

"Not to be indelicate, but you've had that problem with cases before, you know what it's like to hit that wall and have to wait for the unsub's next move. Why is this one bothering you more than usual?"

"I..." Alec shook his head. "I'm not sure? We did the follow-up interviews with the victims' families today, and just. They weren't." He swallowed, tried to figure out how to put it into words. He'd done more notifications than he'd like to think of, done so many interviews, and follow-up interviews, and follow-ups to the follow-ups, there were things he knew from watching witnesses or victims or family that he seldom had to figure out how to _say,_ because it wasn't necessarily about the case. "They were so numb. Not like they were still in shock, or denial, not like they hadn't been able to start grieving yet, but like they already had? They were so resigned, as if they _knew_ we weren't going to find anything. As if..."

"As if they thought you didn't care." 

"Yeah." Alec closed his eyes, felt the heat overflow this time, anger and regret and guilt all tangled up in his throat. He tried to cough it out. "I don't think anyone's cared about any of them for a long time."

"But you do."

_Of course I do._

"What if," Alec made himself open his eyes again, made himself look at the sky, at all those impossible stars. "What if I can't find this one? What if I don't, what if I fail, and they think we didn't even try, we're just more people who wrote them off, who didn't bother, who—"

"No one who's known you for five minutes would believe that." Magnus cut him off, his voice soft but steady, unwavering, almost _ruthless_. "And if they do, I'll set them straight."

Alec laughed, damp and wavering, but it was there, and somehow he felt better.

Magnus always helped him feel better.

He inhaled, exhaled, let as many of his _what-if's_ and _maybes_ go as he could. He felt the weight of the hour settling on his shoulders, and he thought that he might manage to get some sleep now. 

But that would mean hanging up, and he wasn't quite ready for that. He cleared his throat, and spoke again, lighter and softer. "Does the world really need more straight people though?"

Magnus sputtered, and then he laughed, and oh, that was now one of Alec's favorite sounds in the whole wide world. "No, it doesn't. Good point."

"Magnus?" Alec asked, eyes suddenly heavy as he blinked up at the sky. He had a feeling it was now or never. 

"Yes, Alexander?"

"Would you like it if I finally saw you in person?"

"I would like that very much."

"Good." Alec smiled, stretched his neck and made himself sit up, swinging his legs until they were dangling next to the tire on the side of the car. "Would you like to meet me for breakfast over at S&G's when I get back?"

"Sounds perfect." It sounded like Magnus was smiling too, and Alec couldn't wait to actually _see_ it. "Now go get some sleep. I'll be here when you need me, tomorrow."

"I know you will. Thank you."

"Anytime." It sounded like a promise, not just a pat answer. Magnus _meant_ it, in a way so few people ever did. "Sweet dreams, darling." 

"You too, _darling._ " Alec hung up before Magnus could respond to that, and he grinned, imagining all sorts of possible expressions. He slipped his phone back in his pocket, and slid off the car, stretching his arms and shoulders out before he got in to drive back to the hotel. 

He'd go get some sleep.

They _would_ break this case.

And then he'd go back home.

He had a date to keep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bingo Square: There's only one bed 
> 
> Because it's _way_ more entertaining when it's on purpose, I guess? Especially when it leads to an *important relationship milestone*

“Mine,” Jace stated before Alec had even managed to catch up to see which door he’d opened. “You two can share the other one.”

Considering that was exactly what Alec wanted to happen, he wasn’t at all sure why he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “Shouldn’t Magnus get the single? He’s the one with all that gear.”

Magnus shot Alec a sideways sort of glare, clearly also wondering why Alec didn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“I got here first.” Jace grinned over his shoulder. “I have to enjoy that when it happens, since I’m always stuck out in the field with an awkward giraffe who never takes into account my _normal person_ sized stride.”

“Hey,” Alec managed. 

Jace stuck his tongue out at him, stepped into the hotel room, and shut the door behind him. 

“Why were you arguing with him?” Magnus raised an eyebrow when Alec finally managed to stop blinking at the shut door and look at him.

“I always argue?” Alec shrugged. “I guess I don’t know how not to. Pretty sure he’d be suspicious if I didnt.” 

Magnus snorted softly, but leaned into Alec’s side as Alec slung his free arm over his shoulders. “Pretty sure he’s already suspicious.”

“Oh yeah, he knows.” Alec grinned. “But we’re both pretending he doesn’t. Not sure why.”

“Because as soon as you’re both in the same room you turn into twelve-year-olds?” Magnus suggested, even as they managed a slightly off-kilter walk the few steps necessary to reach the next door. 

Alec shrugged again, and kissed Magnus’ temple before straightening up so he could get the keycard out of his back pocket. “I will neither confirm nor deny that theory.”

Magnus snorted again. “Hurry up, these cases are heavy.”

Alec rolled his eyes, and pushed open the door. He stopped in the doorway at the sight of the room on the other side.

The room with _one bed_ rather than the FBI’s usual basic double. 

“Come on, Alexander.” Magnus nudged the back of Alec’s knee with the edge of one of his cases. “You really are being an awkward giraffe today.” 

Alec side-stepped enough to keep the door open but not block the entrance, so Magnus could get himself, his suitcase, and his two strapped together hard-shelled boxes of computer gear he’d brought with him from the field office, into the room. 

“Jace isn't going to be able to pretend if he gets over here before we head down to breakfast.” Alec let the door swing shut, then pushed to make sure it was completely shut before he engaged the security locks. He turned around as Magnus finished setting everything down in a neat row under the window. “One bed?”

“I’ll have you know,” Magnus spun around, his tone deadly serious for all there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I was simply being _fiscally prudent._ Two singles is cheaper! I’m saving the government on our per diem.”

“Uh huh.”

Magnus placed a hand on his heart, and leaned back onto his heels in very fake shock. “I swear! Are you saying you don’t _trust me,_ Special Agent Lightwood?”

"I would never, Tech Analyst Bane." Alec's lips curled up into a smile, and he stepped closer to Magnus. "I am offended you would even ask such a question."

"However will I make it up to you?" Magnus' voice was deeper, softer, the tone warming something in Alec's chest. 

"I might have an idea or two." 

Magnus tilted his head, alluring and teasing, and the warmth in Alec's chest _ached_ with how lucky he felt. "Do these ideas of yours have anything to do with that single bed I got us?"

"They do now." Alec leaned in, and just as Magnus started to mirror him, leaning in close enough their lips could touch, he tugged and fell, causing them both to tilt sideways land on the bed with a _whumpf_ of impact, the pillows bouncing and the bedspread wrinkling beneath them as they settled. 

Magnus sputtered out a laugh, head thrown back, and he was so damned beautiful. 

"I love you."

Magnus' laugh stopped, and he blinked, clearly startled, and Alec realized that he'd said that out loud.

Not that it hadn't been true for awhile, but he'd been worried...

Magnus smiled, warm and wide and fond, and Alec forgot everything he'd ever been worried about in his entire life.

"I love you, too." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [orange8hands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_8_hands/pseuds/orange_8_hands) requested how Lydia and Alec met and uh.
> 
> Sorry?
> 
> SH Bingo Square: Ritual  
> Relationships: Lydia Branwell & Alec Lightwood  
> CW: Canonical Character Death
> 
> [[tumblr](https://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/620314450963087360)]

Alec managed not to flinch as the shots were fired, three times in a row.

He kept his expression even during the bugle call.

He'd been here before.

It never got easier.

He hadn't seen Monteverde in person in over a year, their mutual promotions sending them in opposite directions, the gap between enlisted and officer enough to keep them careful, just a little distant, but it didn't matter.

Alec was reasonably sure the then Lt was the only reason he'd survived his first deployment, and the thought that he hadn't been there to return the favor...

He didn't think he'd ever forgive himself.

He watched the flag being folded, followed it with his eyes as it was handed to John's mother, as she was offered the official salute, soft words of some sort of comfort, and barely held in his frown. Mrs. Monteverde had been almost as crap a parent as the Lightwoods, she certainly didn't deserve the honor.

Alec's eyes flicked sideways, found the pale blonde woman standing slightly apart from the surviving Monteverdes, her hair pulled up in what looked like a painfully tight braid, her skin sallow in comparison to the black dress she was wearing.

She was the one who ought to have gotten that flag, she was the one John cared about, the one who'd cared about him.

The Army didn't recognize fiances though. She didn't count, not officially.

She was the only one who did count, unofficially.

Alec waited until as everyone else left, the Monteverdes leading the way, until it was just him, and her.

He exhaled once, hard, and went over to join her where she was still standing, staring almost blankly at the grave, the plaque propped beside it, waiting to be placed on top once the sod had been relaid.

"Ms Branwell?" Alec asked, half-a-step further away than one usually started a conversation, but he didn't want to push, not here, not for this.

She blinked, and tilted her head to look at him, her expression cool and controlled. Her eyes though, she couldn't quite hide the agony in her eyes.

It reminded him of his own face, staring into the mirror in a cheap motel room the morning after his parents had kicked him out. That was the face of someone whose entire world was _gone,_ who couldn't quite understand why the world insisted she stay in it.

"Yes," she paused, her eyes flicking across his uniform, recognizing the shape of his stripes. "Sergeant?" She blinked, and her body sagged in something like relief when she got to his nametag. "You're Lightwood. John talks—."

She stopped entirely that time, her swallow almost a whole body convulsion.

"The Captain talked about you all the time, too, ma'am."

Her mouth quirked up into half-a-smile on one side, sorrow still heavy in the air between them. "Call me Lydia."

"Alec, then." He took that last step forward and offered a hand, managed a smile back when she took it, her grip a shade too firm to be polite. "It's nice to meet you."

"Not the circumstances any of us wanted." Her grip faded, her head turning to look back down at the grave.

"No, it's not." He squeezed her hand before letting go. "I'm so sorry."

Something in her posture sharpened, her focus on him properly for the first time. "Why does that sound more like guilt than sympathy?"

Alec blinked, and realized she was every bit as impressive as Monteverde had always claimed. Not that Alec hadn't believed him, but she was always so _pretty_ in the pictures he'd seen, smiling at _her John_ , laughing or eating or teasing him. It was something else to meet her in person and feel that sharp edge Monteverde had always been so proud of aimed at Alec directly.

"It can't be a bit of both?" He let himself shrug. "I wasn't there for him, and there was no way _to_ be there for him, not really, but that doesn't mean I can't regret that."

"Yeah." She sighed, clearly in agreement. "Thank you."

"Can I get you some dinner, ma'a—Lydia?"

She paused, a bit of a frown between her brows as she glanced down at the grave, then back up at him.

"Monteverde wouldn't want you to be alone, but he certainly wouldn't want you to go back there." A sharp jerk of his chin in the direction Mrs. Monteverde had gone was more than enough to make the 'there' in question apparent. "And I'm reasonably sure you haven't been eating enough."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows lifted, but there was a hint of something almost like amusement softening her grief. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Monteverde used to tell me I was even worse than his girlfriend about _not_ eating when I was upset or working, and he hadn't thought that was possible."

Lydia snorted out something that was almost a laugh. "I didn't either."

"Shall we, then?" Alec offered his elbow, and she snorted again before accepting his help, her heels not terribly well designed for walking across the stretch of damp grass between them and the path.

"Thank you," she murmured, her head tucked down as she watched where she was putting her feet rather than facing him directly.

He kept his arm steady, focusing on the ground and the path ahead of them, without trying to look at her directly either. "You're welcome."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the Bingo Square: Hunt
> 
> Maia POV
> 
> This is about some things that must be true, if we're going to make heroes of FBI agents in fiction, but it is absolutely all right if my version of this conversation is not palatable for you, the readers. It is an idealized take because, of course, the BAU is an idealized thing, not a real one.

Maia frowns as she walks into the conference room. There are four people there ahead of her. They're other members of the BAU, all from the other two teams, and the entirety of her non-white coworkers in this office: Aline Penhallow, Luis Rivera, Theo Morgan, and Gene Torres. 

She forces the frown off her face, and sits.

No one says anything. They all know better.

Lightwood arrives, closing the door with a soft, firm click behind him. He's got his tablet tucked under his arm, and the light on the thing the techs use for syncing with the monitor in here is on. 

Shit. There's going to be a _presentation_. 

He tilts his head as he looks at them, and she wishes she knew what sort of cluster-fuck this was, so she might have a better chance of interpreting his expression. 

His lips press together, and he shakes his head just a little, but he doesn't say anything.

He turns the monitor on, and sits at the head of the table, and does something on his tablet. 

The video starts; it looks like some sort of phone video, the focus a little off, the angle a little awkward. 

It's a _family_ video, of _Lightwood_ of all people, next to a woman who looks too much like him to be anything but a relative... only she's distinctly more brown than Lightwood himself. The man next to her is black (and kind of ridiculously well-built, Maia thinks he might be taller than Lightwood himself, and he's definitely even broader) and he's got a beautiful grin spreading across his face. There's a much younger man, almost a kid, tucked under Lightwood's arm, dark hair and glasses and a distinctively Lightwood eye-roll, and one other woman on their other side, as pale and beautiful as Lightwood but with the accent of a native spanish speaker as she tries to sing _Happy Birthday_ to her _Mama,_ to _their_ Mama, from the way Lightwood and the boy try to join in, but whoever's holding the camera keeps interrupting them to make fun of their singing, and all three of them are laughing too hard to finish properly. 

The clip ends, switches to something even lower quality, wobbling and crooked, the whoops from off-screen implying someone who isn't quite sober anymore is responsible. It's Lightwood again, _in a tux,_ a distinctively tiered cake behind him, and he gives whoever's holding the camera-phone the finger before he turns to kiss... 

_Holy shit,_ Maia mouths, feeling the table vibrate with a soft _thud_ as someone else apparently smacked their knee or elbow on it when they jerked in surprise.

Theo whispers _"what the fuck, that's Bane,_ " and Aline starts laughing, an awkward sound that's clearly half relief and half confusion. 

Their boss is married to the Head Analyst.

Their boss is _queer,_ and _mixed_. And married to a guy who can't pass, not like he can. 

This is not at _all_ the sort of meeting she thought it was. 

The screen clears, and this time it's a list of names, none of whom she recognizes at first glance. 

"This," Lightwood gestures at the screen, "is a list of the applicants for our open Press position. We've already picked a candidate, and I'll be extending the offer myself tomorrow, but." 

He stops, and Maia finds herself leaning forward. She notices everyone else is too. "I had Bane pull their applications after I was done, and everysingle one of them self-identified as white."

Gene whistles, because _damn._ That's the kind of thing they'd both get fired for, if someone found out, and he just... told a room full of agents about it.

A room full of agents who aren't going to tell on him, Maia is _mostly_ sure. 

Hell of a risk for _mostly_ , though. 

"What do you identify as?" Luis asks, and Maia holds in the wince... mostly because she really wants to hear the answer, even if she can't imagine getting away with asking. Luis is a guy, though, and old-school, and perilously close to retirement. He is, in fact, entirely out of fucks to give about much of anything.

Lightwood doesn't seem offended. "I leave that question blank and put my photo on my resume."

Maia snorts. "Must be nice."

"It is," Lightwood agrees, and some of the tension still caught between her shoulder-blades eases away. "And I know I'm lucky I can get away with it."

He puts his tablet down with a sigh, and runs a hand through his hair. "Here's the deal. I've put up with a lot, swallowed down a lot of bull-shit, to get to where I am, to get where I can _do_ something about it, but I can't hire people if they're not _there._ " 

Maia looks at the list on the screen, looks around the room at the six of them. Six out of sixteen is pretty damn good for the FBI, in her opinion, though she has occasionally felt outnumbered as the _one_ on her own team, and _damn_ , wouldn't it be nice if 'pretty damn good' wasn't true? If this was the _baseline,_ if there was nowhere to go but _up_?

"I need your help. If you're willing to volunteer with the outreach programs, or help me think of places I can go outside of the regular agent pool to recruit, because we _have_ to do better than..." He trails off, swallows. "There are cases we won't solve, victims who won't talk with us, connections we won't make, because we don't have the _context_ to understand them, and the only way that gets better is if I can recruit more people who aren't like... that."

He gestures out at their regular office space, at the rest of _Quantico,_ she thinks, possibly the rest of the god-damned country. "I do my best to get people who can think outside the box, who aren't too stuck in the expectations we all grew up with, but more points of view are always _always_ better. And if I fuck up, or if one of my recruits isn't up to standard, I need you to tell me."

Maia blinks, as she realizes he means that. If he fucks up, he wants to _know._ Not just for his image, but so he can _do_ something about it.

He wants to do something about it. 

He straightens up, somehow pulls all the air in the room towards him, pulls all of _them_ in towards him, fills the space up with his presence. "I need you to find them for me."

Maia finds herself nodding before she's even thought about it, because this? This is something she _wants._ Even if she doesn't find profilers, if she can change the FBI, if she can help from inside until there's no "that" for Lightwood to rail against, for her to fight against, every damn day? 

Lightwood grins at them, something with too much teeth to be soothing, and yet it's more comforting than anything else she's seen since she dared to start fighting for the badge she now wears. "Happy hunting."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for the free space in my bingo card, because I really wanted a Clary POV chapter, and I wanted something about her introduction to either Alec or the team (because that's kind of what this series has become, a lot of different sorts of beginnings) and it didn't fit any of my prompts. 
> 
> (And yes, I did steal Strauss from Criminal Minds to be their boss, I am bad at names, it seemed only fair to let the fusion setting help out some more. 😅)

"Hey, Alec," Clary slips into his office, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her gut, though she knows he can probably tell by the way her fingers are twisting, looking for a pen to hold. 

He lifts his eyebrows at her, and she swallows. She straightens her spine, and turns to close the door properly behind her before moving to sit in front of his desk. 

"Sorry," she offers once she's settled, her hands resting one on top of the other in her lap. 

The side of his mouth quirks, and the nerves settle, though she keeps her posture formal. His voice is dry, and a little more formal than she's used to, but still comforting. "Don't worry, I get it."

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, why'd I have to try and work in yours?" Clary asks, and grins as Alec snorts. Their parents watch _Casablanca_ every damn year for their anniversary. She doesn't get it, it's a bittersweet sort of movie for a romantic occasion, but she has to admit it's a good show. Plus very quotable. She refuses to admit that she tears up at _La Marseillaise_ every damn time. 

But seriously, _fuck nazis._

She's aware that working for federal law enforcement isn't quite as close to 'the good guys' as she'd like, but that is part of why she's trying to work _here,_ in the BAU, in one of the few departments that really feels like something law enforcement should be, something that they need to be doing. 

"I had to forward all the applications up to Chief Strauss," Alec gestures towards her and back to himself. "For the obvious reasons."

"Right." She huffs out a breath. "What did she say?"

"She agreed with me, actually." He leans back in his chair, and he doesn't smile, but she recognizes that move, the little _shit._

She tries to glare at him, but she's never been able to move him when he's determined to be an asshole. 

"What did _you_ say, then?"

He does the eyebrow thing again, and she swallows the urge to swear. 

"Sir?" She adds, as sweetly and aggressively sarcastic as she can manage. (Which is _very,_ she learned from the best, her Mom could _bless your heart_ with the best of them.)

He grins at her. "I told her you were the best fit for the job, and that I was sure we could figure out how to work together, but I'd appreciate it if she made the actual determination from my list of finalists, and if she accepted you, that she'd do your performance evals every year, since we have a relationship out of work."

Clary shoots up with a barely muffled shriek of joy, fist-pumping in victory. "Yes!"

Alec smothers a snort of what is probably laughter. With her, not at her, she decides to pretend. 

"Wait," she sits back down, lifts a hand towards him, palm front. "Is that how you put it, 'a relationship out of work'? Really?"

He shrugs. "The file says we're step-siblings, figured she could read. Not emphasizing the specifics of the relationship out loud helps show her I can keep them separate."

"Doesn't she already know that, with Magnus?"

His eye-roll is very expressive. "They like to ignore that relationship as much as possible."

She eye-rolls back at him in agreement. But then she can't stop herself from smiling at him, from bouncing just a little into the front of her chair. "So when do I start?"

"Now, if you're ready?"

She nods, and stands up again, at a slightly more normal rate of speed. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

"Language, Fray." Lightwood shakes his head as he stands up, though he's clearly teasing. "We're professionals, now, remember?"

"Yes, sir." There isn't a hint of sarcasm in her voice this time, and he offers her an honest smile. 

"It's good to have you aboard, Clary."

"Thank you."


End file.
